Catharsis
by amillionsmiles
Summary: She didn't do poetry. Not for stupid English assignments, not for Rachel, not even for him. Yet here she was, alone in Cabin Six, trying to arrange the words so they'd flow correctly. / After The Lost Hero, but before the Son of Neptune. Percy&Annabeth. Oneshot.


_Catharsis_

Annabeth didn't do poetry. Not for stupid English assignments, not for Rachel, not even for _him._ But here she was, alone in Cabin Six, biting her lip and trying to arrange the words so that they'd flow correctly. Not that it was working.

Rachel had first confronted her with a pen and a sheet of paper a week ago. The _Argo II_ was in construction, which meant that it was only a little time before they set sail. Only a little time before she would be reunited with Percy, so long as he remembered her. As Annabeth watched the ship being assembled piece by piece, she began to get even more anxious. She'd walked down to the fighting area to blow off some steam. By now, over half of the dummies in the arena had been decapitated, courtesy of Annabeth. Rachel, hoping to curb Annabeth's violent means of loosening up, had proposed a different idea.

"You want me to write a poem," Annabeth said flatly, staring skeptically at the flimsy white sheet. It billowed in the wind. It was so small, so fragile. She could rip it in a second. "Even if we were to disregard my dyslexia and ADHD, I couldn't do it. I don't write poems."

"Oh, come on," urged Rachel, smiling cheerfully. "I'm not asking for a poem to meet Apollo-kid standards. Just something to help you get your feelings out. Maybe it'll help. You can write about…you know." Annabeth frowned.

"No," she refused stubbornly. "It's not going to help. It's going to make it worse."

"_Trust _me," pleaded Rachel. "Just try it, okay? Whenever I'm nervous about something, I paint to get my feelings out. I thought that you'd be more of the writing type, though. You don't even have to show anyone!" Annabeth had stared at the paper for a while before finally giving in.

"Okay," she resigned. "I'll try it."

And so here she was, one week and fifty sheets of paper later, trying to write a silly poem. They'd started out bad, and had just gotten worse from there.

She had started out with the intention of writing a general poem about something like fireworks, or the sea. That had been a stupid idea, because almost immediately it brought up a picture of _his _face: that crooked smile, that dark hair, those sea green eyes that she knew almost as well as her own reflection. And that had dredged up an aching sadness inside of her, so that the only things she could think of writing were poems of lost love. It was pathetic. She kept looking out the window, hoping that Percy would suddenly pop out of the lake looking lost, going, _Hey guys, sorry, I went for a swim and then fell asleep, but of course I didn't drown, you know, being the son of the sea god and all. So, yeah. What'd I miss?_ But of course it didn't happen. Nothing _ever _happened the way she wanted them to. Annabeth crossed out another word on her wrinkled sheet of paper. Ink stained the side of her hand.

_Come back to me, Percy,_ she wished, closing her eyes and putting her head in her hands. If she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed slowly enough, she could almost feel him behind her, peering over her shoulder and grinning. _"What's up, Wise Girl? Are those sketches of more buildings for Olympus? No, wait. Is that __**poetry**__ I see?"_ And then he would try to read it, but she wouldn't let him. She'd hold it out of his reach, laughing, and he would wrap his arms around her and kiss her, the piece of paper floating to the ground, forgotten by both of them. Gods, she missed him. _So much._ And they were _so close_ to finding him.

The door creaked open, and a head popped in.

"Annabeth?" Leo stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry to disturb you, but I added something to the belowdeck cabins and I want to know what you think." Annabeth looked up at him tiredly. Leo, seeming to sense her feelings, added, "If you're busy, it's okay. Er, what are you doing, anyway?"

It was a bad question to ask. Immediately, Annabeth was reminded of the unfinished poem that rested on her desk, half-written. Frustrated, she grabbed the sheet and crumpled it, throwing it angrily at the overflowing waste basket. It missed, bouncing off the wall and coming to rest on the ground, which was littered with other crinkled balls of paper – Annabeth's other attempts at poetry. Leo watched in silence.

"On second thought – "

Annabeth burst into tears. At that moment, she felt unbalanced, lightheaded, weak and emotional. And that made her feel even worse. What kind of child of Athena was she? She was supposed to be calm, rational, composed, not blubbering over her lost boyfriend. Why was she breaking down now? They were going to find Percy. She was sure of that. But she was so, so worried. What if he didn't remember? They'd spent four years fighting alongside each other. To have him forget it all when they came face to face would turn her into an emotional wreck. And she was a wreck already.

"Oh, jeez." Leo sounded strangled. "Annabeth? Annabeth? Gods, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Do you, uh, want to talk about it? Yeah. Why don't you try…talking?" finished Leo lamely. Annabeth buried her face in her hands, body wracked with sobs. She shook her head miserably. Leo, however, was undaunted. She heard his footsteps as he moved to sit across from her. "It's about Percy, isn't it?"

Annabeth didn't trust herself to speak. She only nodded. She didn't look up at Leo, either. She was too embarrassed that she'd broke down in front of him. She was supposed to be a _leader._ Camp veteran, all that stuff. Survived the Titan War, was there when they defeated Kronos, helped rebuild Olympus, and so on. Reduced to tears by failed attempts at poetry and one missing boyfriend.

"Oh, come on, Annabeth," Leo tried to cheer her up. "He'll remember you. No one could forget someone like you."

"But he probably went through the same thing Jason did," Annabeth pointed out. Some instinctual need to explain things to Leo made her speak up despite her tears. "It's not like Hera would have made an exception for Percy. He probably woke up in some strange place with no memory, just like Jason. He might even have fake memories with…someone else." Her voice broke on the last two words. Leo looked at her.

"Alright," he said. "But how long have you know Percy for? A year?"

"Four," Annabeth corrected hoarsely.

"See? Four," Leo proclaimed proudly, as if he'd scored a point. "There's no way Hera could have erased every single detail of the last four years from Percy's memory. That would be crazy and cruel."

_Cruel,_ Annabeth thought bitterly. _Vindictive. Spiteful. Just one of the many words I could use to describe Hera at times._ Out loud, she said, "Okay. Maybe it'd be hard to get rid of all of that."

"_That's_ the Annabeth I know," Leo said, a bit more cheerful. "And look on the brighter side: Festus is almost done. We'll be sailing in no time." That was how Leo referred to the _Argo II._ Everyone else called it the _Argo II, _but Leo called it Festus, in honor of his fallen metal dragon.

Annabeth managed a smile. "Thanks, Leo."

"Anytime." Leo got up to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder, then walked out of the cabin. Annabeth watched him go before bending down to pick up one of the paper balls. She unfolded it gently. On it, she'd only scrawled two lines. It wasn't really a poem – more like a silent message to Percy, but she hoped - irrationally - that wherever he was, he could hear it.

_Remember the Titans._

_Remember me._


End file.
